Ghoulies Abroad by Julie Steimle (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📕

“Just smile and look excited for your first trip to China,” Rick said, nodding to them.

Chen was the only one who did not look able to smile or appear excited. His face was peevishly drawn down, still unable to get over their last disagreement. Rick knew he had to take a moment to draw Chen away from the Seven for a chat and resolve this, otherwise Chen was going to be a liability rather than an asset. Because though he knew the Seven were much more mature in mind and had plenty of self-restraint, Chen was likely to lose his cool and lash out—which would not be good considering how powerful he really was.

The airport bus did not come for several minutes, but they waited patiently, assured by the technicians working the stair that it would be there shortly. Rick thanked them with what minimal Mandarin he knew, while the technicians smiled and complimented his Chinese.

“Not bad,” Chen said when they finally sat down on the electric bus when it pulled up, trying to play normal. “How long have you been studying?”

Sighing, Rick replied, “About four years now. I’m slightly functional, though. I can probably pass the HSK 3 level test, but I am definitely not up to 4 level yet. The characters kill me. And I still screw up the tones.”

Chen chuckled, nodding. He then peeked to the rest of the party. “Have they bothered to learn another language?”

“Chen…” Rick’s insides tightened. “What is with you lately? You have got to stop sneering at people.”

“Sneering?” Chen pulled back, clearly affronted.

Nodding, Rick said, “Yeah. You hardly know them, and yet you are being really harsh in your judgement.”

Chen glared at his knees in silence.

“I mean it,” Rick whispered. “I don’t get what’s happening with you. Right now I wish Matt was here so I could figure it out.”

“And what? Throw some money at it to make things all better?” Chen quietly bit out.

Rick stared at him. Something was definitely wrong. It wasn’t just about him probably losing his job. Chen never said things like that to him before. For the first time Rick wondered if Chen had simply been afraid to voice his mind and only now his true feelings came out. After all, Rick had arranged the trip in only a couple days, and Chen might have seen it as showing off.

The tram arrived at the airport doors. Rick quickly hopped off, walking away from Chen without saying a word.

Chen immediately colored, averting his eyes to the ground. But he did not say anything either.

“Jerk,” Andy hissed, walking past him as he got off.

Daniel and James shook their heads at Chen, the same disgusted expressions on their faces. Semour gazed tiredly at him. As Eddie stepped off as the last of them, he said, “That’s some way to treat a friend. Promise me we won’t become friends.”

Shooting him a look, Chen huffed under his breath, “No problem.”

Their luggage was on the bus after them. Each took theirs off, claiming his small bag or backpack (Most had backpacks). Rick grabbed Tom’s small suitcase and his own bag, dragging both with a little difficulty.

“Let me take that,” Semour said, taking Tom’s laptop and lifting it off Rick’s shoulder. “It looks too obvious that you are carrying someone else’s bags with that.”

Rick let it go, allowing Semour to have it. It was true. Very few people walked around with two backpacks, and it looked silly.

All of them walked through guarded airport passages, most of them empty halls, up toward customs where several lines divided people into a well-regulated stanchion-built maze. The guards directing the lines gestured for them each to go through to different booths, each man dividing up as efficiently as possible. There was no obvious sign of Tom having been around—at least at first, though Rick later picked up that the workers had trouble earlier. Something had gone missing and one of the workers was being seriously berated. It was a shame that Tom had to cause trouble to get the things he needed—but imps don’t ‘borrow’ things for him unless it caused a little trouble, if not complete chaos.

Eddie reached a customs guard first, but Rick pushed past him and showed his flight identification, passport, and such to those in charge, asking for access to a VIP lane for himself and his friends who flew on the jet with him.

The guards in attendance examined his documents then glanced at his group. One said to Rick in decent English, “You can go through the VIP lane, but they must go through regular customs.” It probably had to do with the fact that he had a business visa, where their tourist visas were not considered VIP.

Shrugging, Rick waved to them all as he dragged his two bags through the wide VIP lane. It had only been a hope that VIP lane suggestion would work for them all. It wasn’t like he expected their group to get special treatment.

The government official in the VIP lane carefully checked Rick’s visa and passport, eying him briefly before stamping the already stamp-filled document. Rick smiled to the guard and marched on to the other side where he stopped and waited for the rest of them.  

As the Seven went in, each American sized up and eyed over, one after the other red and black stamps pounded into their visas with scrawled on the dates—the first mark any of them ever had in a passport. It gave them all a peculiar freeing feeling as well as an uncomfortable one after being under so much inspection.

As they went through, Chen stepped into a booth. The worker there eyed him over then read his name out loud, “Bai Nian Chen? Ni shi nei guo ren?”

Chen colored, pointing to the passport. “Wo shi Meiguo ren, ke shi wo chu sheng zai Zhongguo.”

Eying him more, the worker frowned. He took longer as he examined the documents, almost as if he were searching desperately for some flaw. However, he stamped Chen’s passport and let him through. Yet, Rick (who had been watching him) noticed the man had typed something extra into his computer regarding Chen. Chills ran down his arms and back. He wondered what it was and if it would be a problem.  

“Ok,” Chen said with a nod once he reached them, his face a little ashen from being stared at so long.

And they moved.

“What did they ask you?” Eddie asked, deeply curious.

Chen gazed dryly at him, still cold toward the Seven. “Just what country I was from.”

“I thought the passport was evidence enough,” Semour remarked with a huff as they marched on.

Chen’s expression lightened.

They marched through the airport, passed baggage claim and went toward the outer doors to the main reception area. It was a long walk through tiled floors walls and high ceilings—along with lots and lots of people. The airport had plenty of international traffic. People from India and Bangladesh were going from one flight to another. Africans coming to China to study greeted one another alongside tourists from America, Canada, and Europe seeking an ‘exotic’ experience. Their eyes scanned the heavy foot traffic, searching for the one with a sign that would have a big seven drawn on it.

They were also looking for Tom.

“What does a Buddhist monk look like anyway?” Andy asked after several minutes of reading signs greeting people.

“Yellow,” Rick muttered, his eyes raking over the crowds also.

They all stared at him, including Chen who looked likely to slap him.

“That’s not a racial slur,” Rick snapped when he saw their looks. “Buddhist monks wear these saffron yellow robes. And monks are usually bald. They stand out.”

Daniel laughed his eyes going over the crowd again. “Ok… Yellow it is. Like a sign.”

“Like a sign…” Rick murmured, seeing no yellow monk.

After a few minutes of looking around for their contact, Rick saw Andy wince in pain, clutching his wrist. So did Daniel and James. They massaged their palms and shot Chen sharp looks as if he were the cause.

Yet Chen merely looked grim rather than angry, his eyes also searching the crowds. Rick could see he was puzzled if not annoyed by their glares—and for that matter, so was he.

Semour was also cringing. Instinctively, Semour rested his hand where his sword hilt would be if he were wearing one. Of course, all the swords were still in the bag James was dragging. Eddie’s eyes glanced anxiously to the bag with a clear desire to get his sword, though thinking the better of it. He then peered out into the crowd with intense anticipation.

“What is it?” Rick whispered to them in a low voice, inching closer to Andy. He could feel their tension now.

“Hostile supernatural being,” Andy breathed back.

Chapter Six

Rick lifted his head, sniffing. But the airport lobby was full of people smells. There was no way to pick one out of the crowd—even a demon.

“Where’s Tom?” Eddie whispered to Semour.

Semour shrugged. “It’s not him. It doesn’t feel like him.”

Eddie nodded, rolling his eyes. “Of course not. But I’d like to know where he is.”

Across the lobby, they finally saw the monk they were looking for… in bright saffron robes. He was a short guy. Bald. Humble looking. He wasn’t very old. Maybe in his thirties. His eyes wandered the airport, searching the place as he walked in with a sign that had a scrawled number seven on it.

“Did you tell him seven of us were coming?” Chen asked Rick.

His friends shot Chen a tired look.

Replying while trying to mask his annoyance at Chen’s poor memory, Rick said, “No. But we agreed on this sign as my four friends are from the Holy Seven.”

Chen peered at him as if he had never heard that title before. He then looked to Daniel, James, Eddie, Semour, and Andy with an expression that questioned their ‘holiness’.

“You aren’t a saint either, Mr. Bigshot,” Semour said to him. He then walked over to Rick. “If that is our contact we should go introduce ourselves.”

 While Chen shot Semour a dirty look, Rick glanced once more at the monk. Something in him said to hold back.

Daniel reached out to stop Semour from going forward. “Not yet. We should do ‘I’m lost’ first.”

“Good idea,” James said.

Eddie looked puzzled.

“Dude,” James smirked at him. “I think only you and I ever played ‘I’m lost’ when scouting the enemy.”

“You think he is the enemy?” Chen pulled back from him.

Rick cringed, as that suspicious gut feeling rose inside his chest. Daniel was probably right, though he hated to think of why. The monk was their only immediate contact.

James nudged Daniel. Those two left their group. They meandered away rather than going directly toward the monk. The others hung back and watched, trying not to look conspicuous in the crowd.  

While they watched, James pretend to be a lost American tourist along with Daniel—Tom seemed to materialize out of nowhere. “What’s up?”

Startled, Eddie and Semour jumped, both quickly swatting him. Andy clenched his chest and Chen kicked at him.

Rick, who had been used to Tom’s sudden appearances, replied unfazed, “They’re checking out our so-called contact. Something doesn’t feel right about that monk.”

“Monk?” Tom narrowed his eyes on